


Drive My Soul

by ivorybyrd



Series: Gundam Wing Prompts [3]
Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Anal Sex, Biker AU, Biker Trowa, Celebrity Quatre, First Time, Homosexuality, Kidnapping, M/M, Older Characters, Stranger Sex, borrowed clothes, well placed rain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-08
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-08-29 19:37:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8502730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivorybyrd/pseuds/ivorybyrd
Summary: Quatre lays in the back of a car, kidnapped by a couple of guys waiting for ten million dollars. Only when they get the money, Quatre's father has no interest in helping his son get home. Trowa finds a meaningless existence in the circus, where he's constantly trying to fit into something he's not. The only thing that he calls his own is a motorcycle that connects him with a poor, pretty faced rich kid.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was a prompt I was tagged in by ThePlottingHousewife on Tumblr. I was hit by the inspiration bus and thankfully this ended up being much longer than I anticipated. Enjoy!

"Do you want chicken strips or a burger?" Came a voice through the trunk. 

Quatre rolled his eyes. "Chicken strips, I guess?" he yelled.

There was a pause after he spoke, and the outside world retained its distance from him. He was laid out with hands and feet tied together inside a surprisingly comfortable trunk space. They had broken and dismantled the latch to avoid situations like him getting away. On the other hand, they had pillows, and a blanket for him to lay on.

The car rolled again, and then stopped once, rolled again and then again stopped. They had to be in a drive-thru. He’d try kicking the trunk ceiling but that was pretty much useless. Plus then he’d get no food out of it, and he was hungry.

They drove again, for about ten minutes he inwardly bemoaned that his food would be cold. 

How did Quatre end up in the back of a trunk headed on the road to somewhere he had yet to discover? Why was he tied up in the trunk with two, at least polite enough to feed him, kidnappers?

Ransom, because he didn’t go to his self defense lessons as a child. He was grabbed and stuffed in a trunk, going on... 15 hours ago now.

They had stopped finally and he heard the doors open and shut. He only had to wait a few seconds before the trunk was popped open. 

Kidnapper number one went by “Duo”, probably the lousiest name he’d ever heard. Not like his was any better though. This kidnapper had a long braid, cheesy smile, but he was the one who had his food. 

Kidnapper number two, was the one who complained the most about seeing to his needs. His name, as he understood it, was “Fei". 

Quatre sat up and took the bag and began to dig through it for still warm chicken strips and not so warm fries. He muttered a thanks and ate. 

 

“Wouldn’t it be nice if you smiled for once Trowa?” 

No, no it wouldn’t. First it was good that he didn't smile, now it was an issue? He nodded. 

“How about you try to give me a smile now,” his sister, Cathy suggested. 

He gave her a pained smile, like he had tried to smile while taking a whiff of something foul. 

“Just… ugh.” Cathy moaned and rolled her eyes at him and walked off. “Just forget it.” 

This had been an ongoing issue for him and the rest of the troupe. Sometimes the crowd loved him, sometimes they took his quiet, and reserved personality as dull and boring. 

Trowa decided to get a bite to eat, skipping dinner with the rest of the workers seemed more desirable given Cathy’s chastising him. He loved her, he really did, but damn, don't work with your family for more than 18 years.

His first major purchase was his motorcycle, Cathy wanted him to get a truck, but everyone in the circus had a truck. Trucks were group vehicles, you could pile twenty people in a truck and have a party. Tailgating, towing, it was stuff that you could do with others. Trowa, was not one to stick out with others. He wasn’t anti-social, he was just, not social. 

His motorcycle was for him, and him alone. Cathy refused to climb on, calling it a death trap on two wheels. Others called it a crotch-rocket or scooter with an ego. 

The more he thought on other’s opinions of his prized machine, the more frustrated he got. And the more he didn't want to smile. 

He went to the emptiest drive-thru in town, not caring to find something nutritious or even edible, he just needed an excuse to leave for a bit. 

 

Quatre was sitting with his legs dangling over the back bumper of the old car. His captors eating their food, checking their phones with obvious anticipation. 

“So if they don't show up?” Duo asked. 

“We knock him out and bury him, that’s the plan,” Fei snapped.

“Yeah, too bad he’s been cool about this whole situation,” Duo shrugged and bent forward to look at the blonde still in the trunk. “Sorry man, I have bills to pay.” 

He wanted to sass them, but he was still in the time constraint before a rep would show up and take him home. Of course his family would have ten million less in their bank account.

A phone buzzed, and instinctually Quatre looked for his but it was still seized. When he heard kidnapper number one give out a hoot of excitement he knew it wasn’t for him. 

“They transferred the money and note says…” Duo’s voice died for a second. “Just… leave him there?” 

Ouch, apparently his father wasn't enthusiastic about being bothered to show up, let alone pay for his safety. 

“Well kid, we got ours, you’re free to go.” Duo had walked around. “You ate all your food right?” 

Quatre nodded. “Yep.”

Duo cut the ropes at his ankles and wrists, and helped him out of the trunk. “Sorry kid, we cant bring you along, but here’s a bottle of water for you.” He tossed Quatre his phone back.

Quatre nodded. 

“Don't die out here gotcha?” he patted the blonde’s back. He reached up and shut the trunk. “About ten miles that way is town, you don't look dangerous so someone will probably pick you up. Try to avoid the super nice old ladies, may end up a sacrifice for some cult. Or skinned for some leather.” 

Quatre rolled his eyes at the warning. “Enjoy your money,” he waved them off as they drove off in the opposite direction. He looked at his phone in dismay, nearly dead, and no reception. 

 

Trowa sat and ate at the outside tables, gross chicken strips and fries. He wasn’t even hungry, but he bought it so had to eat it. 

A couple people came across him and whispered about his part in the circus. Even as he ate he was being told he was too mopey or depressing to look at. 

Didn't any of these peons remember Pavarotti’s “Vesti La Giubba”? The sad clown was an important part of theater history, and…

He shook his head, it didn't matter. 

He trashed his leftovers and grease stained bag, passing by the group of teens that had been talking about him. Their banter had made him feel old. 

His bike roared to life, and the vibration of it against his legs was nice. He’d give anything to just drive and keep going. He zippered his jacket, and pulled on the helmet. He took pleasure of it deafening the sound of teenage jeering in his direction. 

Trowa walked the bike backwards, twisting the handlebars as it curved to the right out of the parking space. He pulled forward, and left the parking lot. After a few turns, Trowa headed down the highway that snaked along the quiet desert. 

The night had seemed endless and the sky glittered with millions of stars. This was the only good thing about stopping in this dead town. The cool night air wrapped around his neck and wrists. The cold eased his frustrated mind. 

He turned a curve and his eye caught someone standing out in the middle of the wasteland, staring up at the sky. The light hit them, causing their head to turn towards him. 

Trowa felt his stomach jump, suspecting he'd seen a ghost. He slid to a stop and looked around, heart still beating against his chest. 

 

Quatre felt a warm light on his face and he saw a passing vehicle slow to a stop and then pause. He at least found the road to get back to town, his captors had driven off-road through some desert before finally stopping. Finding the road in the dark with a nearly dead phone was dangerous. 

He walked cautiously towards the guiding light of what appeared to be a motorcyclist. He doubted they’d give him a ride, but at least he’d get some direction or even a call on a working cell. 

The rider straightened up when he came closer, killing the engine of the bike he finally pulled the helmet visor up. 

“Hi there,” Quatre waved. 

The other stared, “Do you need help?” 

“Kinda, just a general direction towards town? Maybe a call on a cell phone if you have one?” He put on his politest smile and brushed his hands on his pants when the other produced a phone. 

“Here.” 

Quatre eyed the shattered glass on the phone. The image of a young man and woman and who he guessed was the owner standing next to each other lit up when the phone unlocked. “Thank you so much.” Shakily he dialed a number and turned with his back to the helpful motorcyclist. 

“Father?” he said and then grumbled. “Yes, I’m fine, thank you for asking.” he lied. 

He paused to listen to his father’s angry bantering about how he should stop wandering away from his bodyguards and yadda yadda yadda. 

“Yes, father…” Quatre grit his teeth. “Goodbye father,” he hung up the phone and handed it back. “Which way back to town?” 

“That way, but its more than ten miles.” 

“Thank you.” Quatre was too involved with his frustration with his father. He didn't blame him, he did cost him ten million, a little walk wasn't going to hurt him. 

“Ok,” the motorcyclist watched him walk before finally replacing his visor. 

 

Trowa was half expecting the wandering blonde to ask for a ride, he was scrawny, and terribly out of place in the desert. He wasn’t going to bother offering if the other didn't want to ask for help. The engine roared back to life and he set off down the road when the other was already a good hundred feet away. 

He checked his mirror as the other disappeared in the dark of the night. He put him out of his mind. He tried to, but the image of the blonde standing out in the desert, staring up at the sky burrowed itself in his mind. 

He slowed a bit and dragged the tail end around the width of the road, and the tire screamed against the pavement as he rolled back towards town. He needed a good deed for the day right?

He slowed when he got to the blonde, and walked the bike. The blonde didn't stop, but he turned his head in curiosity. He mouthed something that Trowa couldn't hear. 

Trowa cut the engine and pulled off his helmet. “What?” 

“I was asking the same, what?” the blonde stopped and crossed his arms. Trowa had to admit, looking at him in the headlights he noticed that this guy probably had an interesting story. His hair was messy, sticking to his face and framing his tired blue eyes. His nice, probably expensive clothes were dirty. 

“Hop on,” Trowa suggested. 

He eyed the bike and Trowa could see his questioned gaze. “Do you have another helmet?”

Trowa offered his. “Here,” he said. Cathy would probably kill him for picking up a stranger off the side of the road less than not wearing his helmet.

“No,” the blonde put up his hands. “Honestly with my night a crash would be a highlight.” 

Trowa rose a brow, “What’s your name?”

“Quatre,” he said, a small smile spread across his cheeks. “Yours?” 

“Trowa,” he returned the smile, “Its only for a few minutes, you’ll be safe with me.” 

 

Quatre felt his stomach flutter and he quickly scolded himself for being so easily smitten with any guy with a robust look and a heart melting smile. “Fine,” he pretended to be exasperated with the situation. “I can at least rent a car and go from there.”

Trowa moved up on the seat a bit and patted the section of seat behind him. 

Quatre nodded and climbed awkwardly over the seat and slid forward a bit, if he wasn't flushing before, he sure was now. 

“Wrap your arms around me.” 

“Um, ok?” Quatre gently took the other’s waist in his hands, musing about his weirdly strong abdominals. Did that happen when you got a motorcycle? Maybe he should invest in one…

“Around my waist,” Trowa repeated, taking Quatre’s hand and pulling him closer to him. He left his hand at his stomach, if you could call it that. There was nothing plush about this guy’s body. 

Quatre moved the other arm and when he had it in the right spot, Trowa patted his hand. 

“Hold tight,” he heard right before the engine cut off any other sound. 

Quatre nodded into Trowa’s back. ‘I cant believe I’m doing this,’ he thought and took a deep breath. He could die, he could make it back to town and never see this guy again. 

The motorcycle moved quickly down the dark road at speeds he wasn't used to. Quatre could hear his heart in his head, or maybe this was the heartbeat of the one he held onto. His ear had pressed to Trowa’s back tight enough that his warmth had spread into Quatre. His frustrations had been left back in his old footsteps. 

Quatre’s arms tightened just a bit more into Trowa’s stomach, and closed his eyes. 

 

Trowa slowed down unconsciously, and every time he’d notice he’d pick up speed until it happened again. He checked his mirrors and see just a bit of the other’s pale gold hair flutter against his jacket. 

Town came into view, and Trowa tried to find a place for Quatre to get off safely, get a ride set up and be on his way. 

The town was small, but it had about everything needed to sustain a population. Including a car rental lot. When they found it Quatre had tapped his arm. 

Of course, at four in the morning, it was closed. He heard Quatre curse even over the engine. 

Trowa rolled to a stop and cut the engine. “I can take you to a motel.” He watched Quatre’s face contort from an embarrassed smile to a polite one. 

“Its fine, it’s late and I’m sure you’re probably in need of getting home soon. It can’t be that far of a walk.” Quatre was sifting through his pockets and pulled out his phone, keys, and old receipt. His growing panic caught Trowa’s attention.

“What’s wrong?”

 

Somewhere, possibly twenty or thirty miles away, Quatre’s wallet had laid out on the floor of the trunk. 

 

“I’m going to die in a ditch now,” his shoulders fell and he ran his hand through his hair. “It’s a long story, but I don’t have my wallet."

Trowa had to admit, if he wasn't so cute, he’d be sure this was a panhandler that took advantage of his good will. “Go ahead.” 

 

“I was kidnapped, and these two guys stuffed me in their trunk and held me for ransom, my father wired the money but didn't send anyone to pick me up. The guys who kidnapped me left me out in the desert with a dying phone, and a water bottle that I’ve already downed and I’m sure my wallet is in the trunk where they had me.” Quatre had sat down on the curb and sighed. “Because I’m the idiot who wears khaki pants that have terrible pockets.” 

He looked up at Trowa who had a light smile on his face still. In the light of the neon signs and street lights he finally got a good look at the other. The deep green eyes, his near perfect facial structure. Quatre had to say this had been the luckiest part of his long night. Even if it was short lived.

“So I’m homeless, broke and a vagabond now,” Quatre laughed, “I hope you have a good night Trowa.” 

“Come on,” Trowa said and gestured back to the bike. 

“Huh?” Quatre quickly shook his head. “I cant ask you to foot me for anything, I mean I’m good for it, but…”

“No, I don't have much but you’re welcome to stay in my place.” Trowa corrected him and reached down to help the other up. “It’s a bit better than a ditch, but not by much.” 

Quatre felt some relief wash over him, it was more than he’d ever deserve but he was grateful. “Thank you, and I promise I wont kill you in your sleep. And I don't snore, I had my adenoids removed as a kid.”

He saw the other nearly let a laugh out, and Quatre knew his weird minor insecurities probably did sound silly. He smiled at the bit of a warm feeling he got, and for once he wasn’t frustrated by someone’s laughter. 

Trowa had hoisted him up, and brought him back to the bike. Once they were back into their spots Trowa took his hand again and wrapped it around his waist. Again patting his hands when he was secure against him. 

Quatre took another deep breath, the smell of Trowa’s leather jacket mixed with the smell of oncoming rain. 

 

They rode back towards where they had met, where Quatre had stared up at the stars. 

Trowa saw the lightning at the corner of his eye, and the stars disappeared under darker clouds. He glanced back at Quatre and pushed to go faster, to beat the rain that was only getting closer to them. 

When he felt the droplets on his wrists he slowed, the road would get wet and it was too risky to not be cautious. 

The circus tent lights had already been turned off when they arrived. The only indicator he was in the right place was the several lanterns hung between the caravan of RVs and smaller tents. The light sprinkle of rain had let loose a downpour as the got closer. 

He pulled up to a small trailer attached to a truck. When they moved he drove it so Cathy could help drive the head RV. He stopped next to it and cut the engine, quickly he helped Quatre off and rushed the blonde into his trailer. 

“Sorry,” Trowa whispered as he flipped on the light. He took off his helmet and quickly looked for a towel. 

“I-its ok,” Quatre had said with a shivering breath. “I guess its better than getting dehydrated in the middled of the d-desert.” 

Trowa found a towel and handed it over to Quatre who started to dry off. “I can let you borrow some clothes.” 

“Th-thanks,” Quatre draped the towel over his head and dried his face. He unbuttoned his shirt quickly and waited for Trowa to return with clothes. 

Trowa ducked into his room, peeling off his humid jacket and started to rummage through his clean clothes for a shirt and maybe sleep pants for the smaller one. Content with a pair of green plaid shorts, and an old band shirt he headed back to the front room area.

Quatre had taken off his shirt and was trying to dry it with the towel, the rain had washed away some of the dirt from his pale face. His narrow shoulders and slender back shook lightly from the window unit blowing cool air into the trailer.

Trowa realized quickly he had been staring, “Here.” 

 

Quatre had noticed it as well, and he was glad he was so cold or he’d have to explain why his face had turned beet red. “Thanks,” he whispered and took the clothes. 

Trowa took his wet shirt and towel. “I’m gonna put these in the kitchen, let me know when you’re decent.” and he shuffled out quickly. 

Quatre pulled the shirt up over his head and stopped midway. The hole of the neck still over the top of his head. His heart had began to race, the weirdly warm smell of the shirt, the bit of must, and whatever Trowa used in his washer mixed in his brain. ‘Stop stop stop stop.’ Quatre repeated in his mind. ‘Well, I don't have money, and I could always… no!’ 

Glancing around, he made sure Trowa was still out of view, and inwardly cursed at another nice, and somewhat intrusive thought. His shoes were slid off his sore feet. He unbuttoned the accursed pants and let them drop around his ankles and stepped out. His bruised knees knocked together as he tried to get the shorts on. With the shirt itself and having to roll the shorts some to make sure they fit his waist, it was like he had none on. He sat down on the couch and picked up damp pants and folded them. “Decent.” 

Trowa came out only a half second later, and for much longer Quatre could feel his eyes on him before he spoke, “Are you ok?” 

Quatre blinked, and when Trowa pointed to his wrists and ankles he rubbed them gently in response. “Yeah, its just a bit raw.”

“My room is just over here, go ahead and get some sleep,” Trowa pointed to the door down a short, narrow hall. 

“No, please,” Quatre patted the couch. “I”m good right here, you’ve been so gracious already and I wont take no.” 

Trowa glanced to the bedroom and then to the couch. “Only if you’re sure, the couch is terrible.” 

“Not like I would ever suggest both of us in the bed,” And Quatre suddenly wished he’d chosen the ditch to drown in. 

 

“Yeah, but..” Trowa stiffened and looked away. “Ok, fair enough, I’ll see you in the morning.” Trowa headed towards the bathroom, pulling down an extra blanket and then to his room to collect a pillow. His heart was beating extra hard tonight, and the more time he spent around this pretty blonde, the more he smiled, the more he felt like an embarrassed romantic.

Quatre smiled at him when he came back. That smile was soft and charming, someone had to have loved it. This guy had to have someone he smiled at like that. 

He put the pillow down at one end and draped the blanket over Quatre’s shoulders.

Quatre touched his hand, now free from the riding gloves. His cool fingers traced over his knuckles and grasped his hand gently. 

Trowa was sure his heart was going to leap from his throat, his hand was moved slowly to the blonde’s cheek. His rough fingers felt the impossibly smooth skin of Quatre’s face. 

Quatre’s bright blue eyes had been partly hidden under blonde lashes. His gaze fell on Trowa’s face finally. “Thank you,” he whispered, "For everything." 

Trowa was frozen, a numbness had fallen over him and he didn't want to move. Nor did he want to disconnect the feeling of light euphoria this other gave him by such a gesture. He did not speak. 

Quatre gave him a bashful smile and let go. “I-I should get to sleep,” he said and laid down, covering his face with the borrowed blanket. 

“I-if you need anything, I’m just over here.” Trowa tripped over his own feet on his way to his room and shut the door behind him. He shook his head and opened the door a bit and started to change. He knew he was being irresponsible. Letting some stranger, beautiful at that, stay the night in his home. He could wake up without a kidney. 

But damn, those eyes, those messy blonde locks. 

Trowa had to get the heat off of his skin, so he stripped down to boxers and crawled into the bed and held his pillow tightly against his body. 

 

Quatre was counting backwards and forwards from a hundred to calm his anxious mind, amongst other things. This just had to be that trauma high people got after a terrible situation, that they kinda imprint on a savior figure. Yep, that had to be it. No need for a one night stand with this random guy who rides a motorcycle, with strange hair, beautiful eyes and 'Ok Quatre, shut the hell up'. His skin still itched from the vibration of the bike, yep, that’s what that was that itched. 

Quatre sat up, and moved off the couch to stand. His hands shook as he tried to convince himself to lay his ass back down and go to sleep. But he was so charged up, and he had to drain it. He stared at Trowa’s door for so long that he hadn’t realized he had been right in front of it, his hand on the handle to slide it to the side. 

He let his hand drop, not ready to do this, he wasn’t about to do this. He couldn't do this. 

His mind traveled to ‘whats the harm?’. His father would be pissed, but not like he was going to come out and said he slept with some stranger who happened to also be male that he just met. 'Seriously Quatre, you just met him, don't jump into his bed.' 

Then his mind fell to that, maybe Trowa wasn’t like that?

He remembered the light bit of pain in the other’s features when Quatre let go of his hand. He thought of the feeling he got when Trowa took him in visually. 

The door opened, and Quatre felt the pressure in his fingers from sliding it across the floor. The worst would be getting kicked out, right?

Trowa had sat up in the bed and stared at him. The room was small, and most of it was taken up by the bed, there was definitely enough room for him. So no need for the excuse of needing something unrelated to a good affair. 

“I’m not… like..” oh but he was, he was doing it now. 

Trowa had moved across the bed and grabbed his hand, pulling him into it. 

Quatre’s knees hit the soft mattress, and he dropped his hand to steady himself until he was pulled down into the other. 

 

“I know you aren’t,” Trowa whispered, his lips fallen over Quatre’s. When he saw the other in the doorway, a sense of fulfillment made him smile. Now the blonde was in his bed, wearing his clothes, and came of his own volition. 

Quatre had wrapped his arms around his neck, and just like on the bike, a warmth spread over him. The other’s small body was soft, and as his hand roamed over his chest and waist, Trowa noted every curve. He pulled the pale leg up, pressing against him more. 

Trowa’s mouth had to taste everything. Even past the taste of rain water, there was something delicate about Quatre’s skin, the smell, and the bit that his lips picked up. 

The borrowed shirt was now on the floor, and Trowa spent no time kissing down the other’s chest, into his plushy stomach. Enjoying the bit of a giggle that came from the blonde. 

Quatre had clasped his hands over his mouth, writhing under Trowa’s lips. He’d been trying not to laugh with every kiss that Trowa planted on his skin, more so when teeth scraped gently across it. 

Trowa stopped when he got closer to the rolled hem of the pajama shorts, he sat up. “Go on?” he asked. 

Quatre shrugged, giving him a soft smile. “I’m consenting, as long as you are.” 

Trowa nodded and moved over to the side of the bed where there was a small in table. He had rummaged for a minute and finally found what he was looking for. 

Quatre had sat up some to see what he was doing, “What’s that?” 

Trowa knew it would work, “Stuff to help,” he hoped it didn't sounds shady as he thought it had. 

Quatre nodded and laid down when Trowa had come back, laying the bottle on the bed close to them.

 

Quatre didn't care, as long as he could work out this energy that ran through his skin, along his insides and into his brain. He had pulled the other to him again to take those lips once again. His hands needed to feel his chest, the warm skin felt like heaven to his sensitive fingertips. 

Trowa’s hand discarded the borrowed shorts, leaving him naked and vulnerable to the other. It didn't last long, as Trowa had pulled away just long enough to slip off his own clothes. 

‘Damn.’ Quatre was thankful for the darkened room or Trowa would have seen his eyes bulge out at the sight of what he had been hiding in those tight jeans from earlier. 

His hips rotated at the touch of Trowa’s rough hand on his cock, and Quatre had to turn his face away from the other. But Trowa retaliated by kissing along the backside of his ear and down his neck. The kisses stopped, leaving Quatre in a panting mess. 

Something cool and slick slid against his bottom and in equal measure, something hot wrapped around him below. He dared not look down, his imagination had not been wrong. The feel of Trowa’s hair as it slid across his stomach was enough of an indicator. 

He had barely noticed the first attempt at his entrance, and his legs moved apart a bit to allow the other to continue with the preparation. The slick fingers moved without much retaliation, and Quatre put any discomfort out of his mind with the rest of his anxieties. 

His eyes opened when he felt the wet heat leave, and the shuffle of blankets underneath. Trowa was kissing him again, nibbling at his lower lip. 

Quatre caressed his face, he loved the feel of the other’s strong jaw under his fingers. It was short lived when he pulled his hands away and pushed himself up. He swung one leg over Trowa’s waist and sat at his lower abs. He pushed his hips back, and could feel the tip against his bottom. 

“Ok?” He had heard Trowa’s voice as it cut through the silence around them. 

 

Trowa wasn't sure what emotion the other had shown, he barely knew this person for three hours. There was something that made him want to learn each emotion, each facial expression Quatre had. His need drove him further. 

That emotion he saw turned into a warm smile made his chest flutter. “Ok,” Quatre said with a quick nod of his head. 

He grabbed Quatre’s bare thighs, and pushed him back a bit more, and Quatre lifted his hips some and turned to take Trowa’s cock in his soft fingers. Trowa smiled, a moan passing over his lips made the other blush more. He reached further up to the blonde’s waist to guide him down. 

He watched for the subtle changes, ready to stop if the other couldn't go on. The tightness that wrapped around him was amazing, that even he had to pause for only a second before continuing on. 

Trowa sat up when Quatre froze and put his hand over his face. “Stop?” he asked. 

Quatre shook his head, laughing a little, “I’m ok.” His arms wrapped around Trowa’s neck and he pulled him into another kiss. 

“You’re so warm.” Trowa whispered, and he wanted nothing more to stay in this warmth forever. His hips moved some as he laid back on the bed. He guided Quatre up and down his shaft, until they found a good momentum. 

Quatre’s body fell forward some, his hands pressed against his chest until he eased himself down further to nuzzle into Trowa. 

Trowa smiled, wrapping his arms around the other, caressing his hair as his hips slowed. He shifted his weight and laid Quatre on the bed under him. 

He heard the sigh of relief come from the blond, and was rewarded with a gentle kiss that moved beyond his lips. His skin shivered feeling the mouth over his neck and collarbone.

 

Quatre’s hips lifted and felt Trowa sink into him deeper, and it stirred his mind into a mess. He grasped at Trowa’s strong shoulders, his body taking in every inch. That pressure had began to grow, and he controlled his breathing to hold it back the best he could. HIs feet bobbed back and forth over Trowa’s back as the other rocked his hips into him. 

Trowa’s breath mixed with his own, and he closed the space between their lips once again. He pushed his tongue past the boundary of his new lover. He wanted to burn all these sensations, the smells and tastes into his mind. 

Trowa’s hands moved behind Quatre’s shoulders, and pulled him down as his hips pushed against him. The friction grew as Trowa’s hips moved faster, and that pressure had left Quatre’s mind to float around in space. 

Quatre’s spine arched and stiffened as he released his first load in forever. His face buried into Trowa’s neck, hips rocking as Trowa continued. 

Finally after a few seconds of panting, he felt the heat of Trowa’s seed fill him. A new sensation to add to his mind for future needed relief. 

Trowa had finally moved them again, pulling Quatre to rest on top of him. He could feel the worked hands run over his back and through his now dry hair. Every nerve ending had been electrified, and Quatre loved it. He just rested in that warm chest and eventually he felt the pressure of Trowa’s cock leave him. He giggled at it, enjoying every little sensation. 

They had been quiet for a bit until Quatre had started to escape into sleep. He woke a little when Trowa gently lowered him back to the bed and covered him. “Hey,” he whispered. 

Trowa looked down, hair messy and dripping with sweat. He smiled, and Quatre wished he had enough energy for a second time. 

 

Trowa gave him another kiss, and slipped out of the bed to get cleaned up and let the other sleep. He showered, and ignored his fatigue for now, his mind was a swell of thoughts. Quatre would have to leave soon, hell Quatre could still reject him given his career. He didn't even know if Quatre had someone else. 

He laid his head against the shower wall, his mind going over the events over the last half hour. For some reason, no matter how much he tried to doubt everything, he still remembered the warm smile and the pretty blue eyes and his heart raced. He looked down and groaned. ‘Seriously?’ he thought and tried to relax again. 

When he got back to the bedroom, Quatre had fully passed out. The poor thing had a long night. He replaced his boxers and climbed into the bed behind the other and pulled him into his chest. Quatre’s moan made him smile, and soon enough he was as well passed out. 

 

When Trowa woke again, Quatre’s form had disappeared. The first thought was that it was all a dream, the next was that Quatre left without saying anything. 

“Yeah, Dad kinda gave me the boot then right?” Trowa heard, and relaxed. “I figured that much, I mean it was a lot of money to hand over, I just hope he didn't use charity funds again, you know how he is with a computer.” Quatre could be heard laughing lightly.

Trowa hated eavesdropping, but the walls of his trailer were thin, and the sliding door even thinner. 

“Could you help me with that? I’ll text you the name of the rental car place here. I’ll get a car and head to the closest airport, if you can help me there. I… don't have my ID though…” There was a pause.

 

Quatre held his head, there was a slight headache brewing. “I mean, ugh..” he tried to work out his problem, if it meant asking his father to vouch for him, he’d rather drive the entire eight hundred miles back to his apartment. “Do you think you can swing something for me? I’ll pay you back, no! No I insist, this is all my fault.” 

He sighed, glancing back towards Trowa’s bedroom door. It was almost tempting to just ‘run away’ and stay here. “Thanks sis, let me know if it works… yes… I love you too.” He hit the end button and set his phone down. He had dressed in the borrowed clothes Trowa had loaned him for bed. Not like they lasted very long. 

He jumped when the trailer door opened and a woman stepped up. He paled, quickly remembering the woman in the background of Trowa’s somewhat broken phone. 

She stared at him, “Who are you?”

Trowa had burst through his bedroom door, nearly tripping over a pair of boots in his hall. “Cathy.” 

“Yeah, that’s my name, but who is he?” She crossed her arms. 

Quatre was panicking, was this Trowa’s girlfriend or wife? He wasn't sure if he should just bolt or stay sitting. 

Trowa groaned, “Cathy, you should really knock first, this is Quatre. He needed a place to stay last night.” 

“Trowa?” Quatre whispered. 

Trowa glanced in his direction finally and Quatre could tell it took a couple second before he realized that he was confused. “Oh! This is my sister, Cathy.” 

Cathy rolled her eyes and gave Quatre a look. “Sorry you had to stay in this pig-stye, are you a local?” she asked, eyeing him closer. “Wait, no… Quatre, that’s not a very common name is it?” 

Quatre knew it was coming. “Oh, no, its not really.”

“What’s your last name?” here it came. 

 

Trowa watched the exchange, confused as hell to what his sister had been leading up to. 

“Winner,” Quatre had replied, strange, it sounded vaguely familiar. 

“Holy, I thought you were kidnapped?!” Cathy put her hand to her head “Where did you find him?” her attention turned to him. 

Trowa shook his head. “He was walking in the desert.” 

“My father paid the ransom but didn't send a pickup, I think he was a bit mad about having to pay the money.” Quatre smiled past his embarassment. “I dropped my wallet in the kidnapper’s trunk. They were actually pretty nice.” 

Cathy shook her head at him, “I mean, it is ten million but you’re his kid,” she said. 

“One of thirty,” he corrected. 

“How did you not know Trowa? This kid was in the news.” Cathy gently hit her brother’s bare shoulder. “Oh my god, go get dressed,” but then she paused, glancing between them. The borrowed clothes, and Trowa knew his light smile and flushed face was going to give away some indication. 

“Cathy?” he asked.

She turned her face to Quatre, “Would you like some breakfast?” she asked, her face a bright smile, Trowa knew she was trying not to break out into hysterical laughter. 

“S-sure,” Quatre said politely, “Thank you.” 

“Its already done, so come and get some when you both are a bit more… dressed.” Cathy finally departed. And of course her laughter could be heard as she walked away.

“Your sister is nice,” Quatre sighed in relief, “To be honest she’s so beautiful I thought she was your girlfriend.” 

Trowa shook his head, “Nah,” his smile died some. “Do you have someone… back..” it was hard to say those words. 

“Much to the frustration of my sisters, no, I haven’t really expressed that my desires don’t entirely fall in line with what they expect.” Quatre smiled up at him, “Umm, if this isn't too forward?” 

“We did sleep together.”

“Right, kinda beyond that, but… can I have your phone number?” Quatre asked.

Trowa felt his stomach twist, “Yeah.” 

 

Quatre handed him his phone. “I used your charger, I hope you don’t mind, thankfully it was the same as mine.” 

Trowa nodded, and with some effort he plugged his phone number into a new contact. Trowa clicked the home button. 

Quatre snatched the phone quickly, his face flushed. “Thank you.” Having woken earlier he had not wanted Trowa to yet see the picture he took of them in bed.

Trowa cleared his throat. “You can take a shower if you want,” he said and gestured to the bathroom.

Quatre nodded, “If you don't mind me stealing a shirt I’ll get your next address and send them back?” It took some effort to get the guts to ask, but it was out there now.

Trowa smiled. “Sure,” he seemed pleased with the idea.

Quatre radiated happiness. He took his phone to the bathroom and set it down on the counter as he stripped and folded the borrowed clothes. He felt bad for needing to steal a bit from this adventure. The shower started and as he waited for it to warm he looked through the photos he took. Some of just Trowa, but most of them together. He compiled all of them, and dropped them into a secure privacy app. 

Quatre felt sad knowing that the scents of the night were now going down the drain. But he helped himself to the shampoo, the soap and made sure to keep the brands in mind. He didn't care if it wasn’t the organic, over priced products that were forced onto him by his health conscious sisters. He’d buy them even if he never used them. 

He dried off with the towel and wrapped it around his body. “Trowa?” He opened the door a bit. 

Trowa’s bedroom door opened and he looked down at Quatre, “Yes?” 

As much as he wanted to go for a second round, he forced himself to ask for the clothes. 

 

Breakfast may have been somewhat cold, but Quatre ate his fill, and Trowa had to appreciate the shorter blonde wearing one of his shirts that was a bit too big, and his jeans that had to be rolled up around his ankles. For some reason, even with the brown oxfords he wore, Quatre had been quite attractive. 

Trowa tried to remember the background image that Quatre had tried to hide from him, first he assumed it was something Quatre needed to hide from him. But as his mind had gone over it, he got more curious. 

He gave Quatre a ride to the rental car lot, and after some convincing Quatre was handed the keys to a grey beater car. Trowa kept his doubt to himself, it was going to hopefully get the blonde from there to the Phoenix Sky Harbor International where he could hopefully fly to wherever home was.

Quatre turned the engine over and the car started, much to Trowa’s dismay. He watched the blonde turn in the seat to face him. “I wanna say.. thank you for everything.” 

Trowa shook his head, “I’m glad I turned around when I had.” 

“I mean it, last night was pretty amazing.” 

“It was,” Trowa let his curiosity get the better of him. “What’s your phone background?”

Quatre’s blood had rushed again to his face and he laughed it off. “Nothing, just me being weird.” 

Trowa reached out his hand. 

Quatre took a deep breath and unlocked his phone. “Here,” he handed it to Trowa.

Trowa rose a brow as he adjusted the phone icons to better see the background.

Quatre had his hands over his face.

“Can you send it to me?” 

Quatre looked up, and smiled. “Yeah, do you want all of them?”

Trowa cocked his head to the side. “How many did you take?” 

 

“A dozen?” Quatre laughed, “I’m sorry, I really wanted to keep the last twelve hours forever.” 

He could see the look in Trowa’s eyes change from humored to adoration as he spoke, and Quatre could feel the excitement wash over him of returned feelings. 

Quatre took his phone back and he quickly sent the pictures over to Trowa, “I’m sending you the better ones, and I don't think you need the ones with just you.” 

Trowa laughed, and grabbed the back of his head sheepishly. “No, I don't think so.” 

“Can we get together soon?” Quatre asked, he knew he was going to be a bit busy, and Trowa worked on the road. 

“I’d like that,” Trowa whispered. 

“I wanna ride your bike again,” Quatre teased, his mind adding ‘amongst other things’. He saw Trowa got the insinuation. “I may have you teach me.”

Trowa shook his head, “I don't know if I want to spare too much time on that.” 

Quatre laughed and put both feet in the car, he had to leave soon, his sister’s text had told him he had limited time. “I should get going right?” 

Trowa nodded, “Before I wont let you leave.” 

Quatre grinned. “I’m kinda glad I got kidnapped now, before it was kind of an inconvenience, but I have to say the luckiest twenty-four hours of my life.” 

Trowa smiled and put his hand on the door, “Get a hold of me when you arrive at the airport ok?” He reached down and cupped Quatre’s face and kissed him.

Quatre didn't want to leave anymore, and his throat tightened. “Ok,” he whispered when Trowa pulled away. 

“If you ever need a place to run away to, remember my circus ok?” 

Quatre felt his eyes well up, and he laughed. “Right, I will.” He took a breath and with Trowa’s help he closed the door. They kissed again, and again. 

Finally Trowa pulled away. 

Finally Quatre put the car in reverse and pulled out. 

Trowa stepped back to his bike and sat across the seat. 

Quatre took a couple seconds before shifting the gear into first and headed down the road. 

Ten miles down the road, Quatre stopped, eyes filled with tears. He opened the safe app and flipped through the pictures over and over with his head on the steering wheel as his heart ached. But soon enough the tears stopped, and he laughed, “I forgot my clothes.” 

(THREE MONTHS LATER)

Trowa sat in the dining tent, a tv had been hooked up and rested on a table for all to watch on breaks. He had barely heard from Quatre in the last few weeks, but when he had, it was a cute message or a picture. Quatre had kept his promise, and let Trowa know he hadn't broken down or gotten lost on his way to the airport. 

He had caught small sights of Quatre on the tv once in a while, finding out that despite his modesty, Quatre was actually a well known name in the media. His kidnapping had been the talk of the airwaves for a few days after he showed back up in northern California. They talked about how he took a break from online activities, and how he ended up canceling several events. 

Trowa had a feeling the other was probably just as miserable as he had been, even though the media was spinning it as him recuperating from a horrific ordeal being kidnapped. 

They had come up the western coastline and the closer they had gotten to where Quatre, he presumed, lived the more anxious he got. The more he just wanted to run off and find him.

That night Trowa had laid in bed staring out the sky outside his window. There would be a chance he’d never see Quatre again that year, they both had been busy. 

His phone went off.

Absently he grabbed it, and lifted it. 

“Where are you guys at?” it was from Quatre. 

He replied with his location. 

“Wanna come rescue me?” was the reply he got. 

Trowa’s heart rushed. “Are you ok?” he sent, his heart was ready to burst from his chest. 

“Yes, just really anxious at this stuffy banquet and you’re less than an hour away.” 

Trowa sighed in relief. “Address?” he sent.

The next message had an address, which popped up a map icon. He sat up and slipped on his boots, jacket and gloves. He grabbed his helmet and a secondary one that Cathy had began to use and without a word to anyone he escaped down the highway.

 

Quatre had been smiling for the last hour, and his face hurt. He was getting tired of relaying an over dramatized account of his abduction and his attempt to get back. He never mentioned Trowa, or the night they had. Though he did entrust the details to Iria who kept prodding about his clothes and the retaining glow he had. And she had snuck his phone and saw the picture. 

He slid his finger over his phone, looking at each picture that he had taken, and some that he’d received from Trowa after prodding. He had snuck out of the building and sat down on the front steps. Each time a roar of a motorcycle came within earshot he stiffened. He hated the city lights, and he was again drawn back to the night he had looked up at the vast amount of stars that littered the sky when he first met Trowa. 

“Quatre?” he heard his sister’s voice, and when he looked back, he saw Iria and the entourage that always accompanied her. 

“I’m headed home, I called for a ride.” He stood up and smiled. “Thanks for having me come.” 

“You should really stay, remember we’re trying to appease daddy?” she asked. 

“I think I’ve done my best tonight.” He gave her a gentle hug.

She reached up and caressed his face. “Alright, get home and get some sleep, do you want to have one of my drivers take you?” 

He shook his head and the roar of a motorcycle hit his ears. He turned his head and saw the familiar deep blue bike, the matching helmet and the deceptively thin rider slow to the stop on the curb. 

Quatre perked up, “Bye!” he turned on his heel and before his sister could grab his arm he sprinted across the large walkway. His heart hammered when the rider grabbed a second helmet off and held it out for him.

Quatre ignored his sister’s yells and as he got close to the bike he grabbed the helmet held out to him and slipped it over his head and climbed on. He wrapped his arms around Trowa’s waist and held tight. That warmth spread over him, and he felt a sense of calm. “Go!” he urged. 

Trowa took no time and set off down the street.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
